


Hand Outstretched (The Man You Make remix)

by litra



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Fire, Friendship, Gen, I feel like time travel should just be a blanket tag for this fandom, Nicknames, Podfic Welcome, Pre-Relationship, Remix, Time Travel, pov swap, scramble - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litra/pseuds/litra
Summary: Young Mick got more than a warning and a death threat when he was plucked out of time.A remix of saekhwa's fic The Man You Make, Now and Then





	Hand Outstretched (The Man You Make remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Man You Make, Now and Then](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7036750) by [saekhwa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/saekhwa). 



> A remix of saekhwa's fic The Man You Make, Now and Then, as part of the DC Multiversity scramble. All credit for the dialogue and original idea goes to them.

"There'd better not be any accidents. If there is, I'm gonna come looking for you. I'm gonna kill you," the guy said.

“You sound just like my dad.”

Mick still wasn’t sure he believed the talk about these guys being time travelers. Sure this guy could be his future self. He knew enough it might be true. Or he could be really good at reading people.

The guy’s shoulders went up and his jaw clenched. There was a moment where he thought the guy might lash out. He had the same expression Mick’s dad had when he was about to start in on him. Mick feels a rush of sick pleasure that he so clearly landed a hit, then immediately regretted it.

The conversation could have gone either way, except another of those guys had stopped in the doorway. This one was tallish, but leaner. He had dark hair in one of those fancy business guy haircuts. The guy who claimed to be older-Mick, looked at him, then turned and stormed off.

Haircut guy looked after him, then looked at Mick. He pasted on a smile that was too bright, too open to be real. The little wave solidified it, This guy was either a complete idiot, or playing him. 

“Hey. Couldn’t help but--”

“But your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Mick cut him off.

Haircut laughed. Mick just blinked a few times as the guy looked back down the hall. It wasn’t even a mocking laugh, more like he’d been surprised.

Not that it mattered. He didn’t let the first guy get to him and he wasn't going to let this guy do it either. He tucked his hands defensively into the pockets of his jacket. They brushed against the matchbox. Mick curled his fingers around it. The constant tingling under his skin, the anticipation - like a held breath waiting for release, was always there. He was just able to ignore it sometimes, for a while, the way everyone said he should....

Just one.

He won't start anything. It’s just… a lot had happened. Mom and little Ella and the twins, then being picked up and shoved in some kind of ship with a girl he didn’t know and…. He needed to breath for a minute.

He pulled out a match, two, just to be sure. He held one cupped in his hand, and struck the other with his thumbnail. The fire danced up, flickered, then held steady. Mick pulled the match in closer, holding it in front of his eyes where it swallowed the whole world.

“So hey, that guy…” Haircut started.

Mick glanced at him, then back to the fire. He hadn’t told him to put it out after all, and matches didn’t last long.

"I know it doesn't look, much less sound like it, but he's looking out for you."

“Heard that before.” Mick didn’t think about the words. They didn’t mater. Empty condolences. He focused on the way the flame ate the wood of the match until it was all the way down. Lit the second from the first.

"Right," Ray says. "Just know that this—all of this—will get better."

"Heard that, too."

"You have your whole life—"

"Look, mister, whatever you're going to say—" He hissed as the second mach bit at his fingers. It had gone up a lot faster then the first, something blue in the core. Sometimes they were like that.

It’s not enough. He took a breath and it felt like his lungs had closed up again now that the fire was out. He blew on his fingers and reached for the matchbox in his pocket before they’d stopped tingling. He shook out a new match, flicked it to life.

He’d been saying something….

"I'm sure I've heard that, too. If you're not taking me home, then scram. I just wanna be left alone."

It didn’t feel like a lie, but it didn’t feel like the truth either. Mostly he didn’t want anyone’s pity. Didn’t want empty, obligatory words, and people patting him on the back because it made them feel like they were doing the right thing.

When he glanced up, Haircut was gone. Mick set his shoulders. Of course he was gone, Mick hadn’t expected anything else.

He looked back to his match.

A folded piece of paper waved in the corner of his vision and Mick looked up.

Haircut was back, and smiling. "We're going to take you back home, and when we do, you come and find me? Preferably around 2001, because I'll just be a confused kid. But give me this note, okay? And you'll have someone else looking out for you."

Mick’s eyes were drawn back to the match (it was down to a stub and he let it burn out without reaching for another one) but he still felt like he was staring at the guy. He was just so enthusiastic about it. It couldn’t be real.

“Why?”

"Because we can all use a friend. Another friend. I'm pretty sure Leonard Snart'll be the first friend you'll make, but, uh, forget I said that. You probably will anyway, but at least, maybe, you'll remember this note, and you'll know you have some place to go."

He waited. Mick didn’t take the note. He wasn’t sure what taking it would mean. After a moment the smile faltered, then Haircut seemed to rally. He nodded to himself, then bent. He put the note by Mick’s foot. When they guy stood he seemed satisfied for some reason.

"Just think about it. You'll have some time while you're here. Not that we plan on taking too long. Hopefully, it'll just be a few minutes for you."

His smile was back. His hands came up, then stopped. For a moment Mick thought he was going to try to hug him, and just, no. But he didn’t. Haircut nodded to him and turned to wander off somewhere.

Mick looked down at the note. His hand was still in his pocked, turning the matchbox over so he could feel the texture of the cardboard. If he let himself he could burn through the lot of them, but he didn’t know where he’d get more.

He glanced after Haircut, making sure he was really gone. He was. Mick picked up the note.

There was a phone number, an address in Star City, a note: Ask him to tell you about the future. It was signed Ray Palmer. Mick wasn’t sure if he was supposed to ask, or if the instruction was for the younger Ray. At least he had a name now.

Mick stuffed the paper into his pocket. He hadn’t decided to do it yet. He had a few years before 2001 anyway. He’d probably lose the note way before then, or he wouldn’t believe him, or… maybe it would work.

Time travel…

He shook his head, and went to find if there was anything to eat in this place.


End file.
